


en garde!

by oddishly



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 02:33:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12949410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddishly/pseuds/oddishly
Summary: The many faces of treason.





	en garde!

**Author's Note:**

> for M, who asked: Do you ever start to put a question into words, like, for instance, "Is it treason to slap a prince's butt?" and then feel reluctant to ask because of how much the question itself sounds like the summary to a trashy Merlin fic?

It's always a bit of a trial introducing new cohorts of knights to the citadel, but for Merlin, this winter has been more trying than usual. One knight in particular, a sir someone from the south whose name Merlin can only remember with nothing short of an Uther-like incentive, has been causing Merlin the kind of difficulty he hasn't had to deal with in years with all his buying into the pomp and grandeur of the crown--or his proper familiarity with tradition and due process, depending who you listen to.

They're most of the way through their morning patrol when Arthur grins at Merlin and saunters past with an emboldened air, all bright smiles at the ladies behind their market stalls and a, "What do you say, Merlin? I think Tara over there has her eye on me."

"I think you need to check your eyesight."

"No, it's these new riding breeches, they really highlight my best ... qualities."

Merlin lets a flash of feeling and magic warm him, and he lifts his hand to give Arthur a thwack where he deserves. Before he gets the chance, though, someone wearing a lot of armour hurtles up from behind and knocks him sideways, shouting, "Sire!"

Merlin rolls to his knees from where he's landed on the ground, mouth agape. Sure enough, the pointy end of Sir Over-Zealous's sword is in alarmingly close proximity to his neck.

"Back on your knees, servant."

Merlin drops post-haste to his recently-vacantly spot in the dirt. "Um--"

Arthur turns, eyebrows raised, and spends an insultingly short amount of seconds looking surprised between Merlin and his delusional swordsman. "Merlin. Whatever did you do this time?"

"Nothing!" snaps Merlin, just as Sir Ridiculous says, "He's a traitor, sire. He's insulted the crown."

Merlin scoffs. "Insulted!"

Arthur's eyes widen, and he turns closer. "A traitor? That is not a claim to make lightly--"

"He attempted to assault you, my lord. As you passed him by, he raised his hand to attack you. I was fortunate to see his intention in time to stop him."

"I did not--I was going to give his arse a smack, that's all," splutters Merlin, and attempts to clamber back up to his feet only to find himself once again staring down the length of the sword. "Come on, Sir--Knight. Look at the size of it! It's begging for a smack!"

In the worst attempt at disguising a laugh that Merlin has ever seen, his cheeks pinking, Arthur rubs his hand over his face; a courtesy Gwaine and Percival, smirking at Merlin on either side of Arthur, don't even pretend at. Sir Foolhardy extends his sword arm an inch closer to Merlin.

"Look, you obviously noticed too," continues Merlin, "or you wouldn't have seen me about to _assault_ him."

"Quiet, cur!"

"Yes, quiet," says Arthur. He narrows his eyes, no doubt to hide sparkling amusement. "Merlin. I can't say I'm wholly surprised, you always have been impetuous--"

"--have not! Impecunious, maybe, but whose fault is that, sire--"

"--never shown proper respect for my title or authority, but violent treachery--"

Quick as a flash, Sir Utter Fool has his foot on Merlin's neck, pushing his chest to the frosty earth, and has reversed his sword, pro-offering the handle to Arthur. "The blade is sharp, sire."

"The--" Arthur's eyes widen as the growing crowd gasps delightedly. "Ah--thank you, Sir Crispin--"

"Arthur!" Merlin is outraged. He glares at Gwaine, bent almost double with laughter, and Percival, smirking, with his hand on Gwaine's back to support him, to their building audience behind them. "If you execute me now--"

"I think a night in the cells ought to do the trick," says Arthur to the knight. "Though I admire your scrupulous attention to my person--"

Merlin opens his mouth.

"Shut _up_ , Merlin! --no need to worry about him, though, in the last several years he hasn't had the wits to get away with assaulting me and I don't see any reason to believe that that will change soon." 

Scowling and brushing mud off his knees, Merlin clambers to his feet. He glares at the crowd until they disperse on their merry way away from him, and Sir Twit re-sheathes his sword.

"Shall we continue, sire?" says Percival, indicating the market ahead straight-faced.

"Of course," says Arthur. He hangs back until Merlin has gathered enough dignity to catch up to him, chin raised, and grabs at Merlin's neckerchief quicker than Merlin would have expected, whispering into his ear. "Couldn't help yourself?"

"As you said," Merlin murmurs back, and walks on. "Your riding clothes fit you very well today."


End file.
